Droply 
Long ago, in a faraway land, there was an emperor who lived in the most magnificent palace in the world. It was made of fine porcelain, so delicate that you had to walk very carefully through its halls. The palace garden was full of rare flowers with tiny silver bells tied to them, so that everyone who passed would notice their beauty.
The garden stretched on and on, until it became a deep, green forest that reached all the way to the sea. And in that forest, on a branch above the water, lived a nightingale.
She was a small, plain brown bird. But when she sang, the fishermen pulling in their nets at night would stop and listen. "How beautiful," they would whisper, and then return to their work, feeling lighter.
Travelers came from all over the world to see the emperor's palace and garden. When they went home, they wrote books about it. And every book said the same thing: the palace is wonderful, the garden is wonderful, but the most wonderful thing of all is the nightingale.
One day, the emperor read one of these books. "The nightingale?" he said. "What nightingale? I have never heard of it! Bring it to me tonight."
Nobody at the palace knew where the nightingale lived. At last, a little kitchen girl said, "I know her. Every evening, when I walk home through the forest, I hear her sing. It makes me feel as if my mother is hugging me."
So the kitchen girl led half the court into the forest. When they found the small brown bird, the courtiers were surprised. "Is that all? She looks so ordinary!"
"Little nightingale," called the kitchen girl, "the emperor would love to hear you sing."
"With pleasure," said the nightingale.
That evening, the palace glowed with lanterns. A golden perch was placed in the great hall. The nightingale flew in and sang, and her song was so pure and so tender that tears of joy rolled down the emperor's cheeks. The nightingale was deeply touched. "I have seen tears in an emperor's eyes," she said. "That is reward enough."
The emperor asked her to stay at the palace, and she did. But she had to live in a golden cage, and she was only allowed out twice a day, with silk ribbons tied to her feet.
One day, a package arrived as a gift from another emperor. Inside was a mechanical bird, covered in diamonds, rubies and sapphires. When it was wound up, it sang one of the nightingale's songs, and its jeweled tail moved up and down.
Everyone was dazzled. The mechanical bird could sing the same tune thirty-three times without getting tired. It never needed rest. It always sang exactly the same way.
While the court admired the jeweled bird, the real nightingale quietly flew out of an open window and back to her green forest by the sea. Hardly anyone noticed.
For a year, the mechanical bird sang in the palace. Then one evening, while it was singing, something inside went whirrr… click. The music stopped. The watchmaker was called. He fixed it as best he could, but said it must only be played once a year, or it would wear out completely.
Five years later, the emperor fell ill. He lay in his great bed, pale and weak, and the palace grew quiet. The emperor longed for music. "Sing, little golden bird," he whispered. "Please, sing." But there was no one to wind it up, and the jeweled bird sat silent.
Then, from the open window, came a sound.
It was the real nightingale. She had heard that the emperor was ill, and she had come to sing to him. She sang about the quiet garden, where the roses grow and the elder trees smell sweet. She sang about the fishermen and the sea. She sang of comfort and hope.
As she sang, the color slowly returned to the emperor's face. His breathing grew calm. And he fell into a deep, healing sleep.
In the morning, the emperor woke up, feeling strong again. The nightingale was still singing by the window.
"Thank you," said the emperor. "Please stay with me forever. You may do whatever you wish."
"I cannot live in a palace," said the nightingale gently. "But I will come in the evenings, and sit on the branch by your window, and sing to you. I will sing about the good and the kind, and about everything in your kingdom you might not see from here. A little songbird flies far and wide."
And so she did. Every evening, the emperor opened his window, and the plain brown bird sang him to sleep.
Tonight, imagine a small bird on a branch outside your window, singing just for you. Her song is soft and slow… and it carries you gently into sleep.
Good night.
